Sheath
by plaidshirtjimkirk
Summary: Saito takes Sano on a business trip to Kyoto but doesn't tell him why. [Established Saito/Sano]


HAPPY SAISA DAY!

This work is dedicated to kuroiyousei for writing some DAMN good stories and showing so much support to me when I randomly fell into this fandom. Thank you very much for everything! I really hope you like this. *heart*

* * *

 **.*Sheath*.**

One step after the other carried Sano through the last leg of an adventure that was both long and unexpectedly satisfying.

It'd begun with three soothing days on the sea headed for Osaka port, followed by horse-drawn carriage rides, two nights at two different inns, good local meals, and a lengthy soak in a renowned hot spring. And while each of those highlights had been a positive experience, the most enjoyable part of all was never straying far from the one person who made Sano's heart thump a little faster. In fact, he'd never felt closer to another than the present, despite a gradual and tacit process of moving into said individual's place months ago.

The plethora of good on this trip left Sano finding complaint with nothing, even when it came to rising at dawn that morning to complete the rest of the journey on foot. There was necessity to stop by some backwater town nestled in a valley for an intelligence exchange—or something like that; he'd neither been given a full explanation nor cared to hear the details. Either way, the detour left them several hours out of their final destination with no other means of travel than leg-power.

Not that Sano minded. In fact, it gave him a rare chance for a little indulgent behavior.

He'd been at Saito's side since the first warm kiss of sparkling sunlight, hiking down paths bored into the wilderness and enjoying conversation dotted with familiar light banter. They talked about nothing out of the ordinary, but having just the two of them in the middle of nowhere made those words more special and memorable. Sano drank them up, savoring every moment of being the sole object of attention, but also staying cautious to not completely wear his heart on his sleeve for once.

The last thing he needed was Saito knowing his actual feelings about being the chosen travel companion; there _was_ a veneer of pride within him to protect, after all, and as Saito himself had said many times, it wouldn't be fair to give it all away so easily. Their relationship had never been officially declared, the great profession of love left unspoken by the lips—but both of those things were real and tangible and formed a foundation on which they mutually thrived on, even if it was never confessed aloud.

The non-vocal nature of their association hadn't ever bothered Sano; in fact, it'd made life exciting and interesting. Those same emotions were in full swing now, with his kindling a bright inward glow upon their departure from Tokyo. Sano reveled in the thought that it was _he_ who Saito wanted to bring along, since playing wingman on business trips was Cho's responsibility.

Of lesser relevance, that meant another tick in his favor in the long-running score of rooster versus broom. But more importantly, it amounted to extra one-on-one time spent with Saito as they did something out of the ordinary together, even if the purpose was for some government mission out west. The venture felt like a vacation, almost like their relationship had been officially declared while skirting on a razor-thin edge of consummation.

After all, exactly why Sano had been taken along remained a mystery, and he wasn't entirely sure what his role was; he wasn't affiliated with the police (outside present company and the few times he'd spent in custody, of course) and hadn't been given anything other than a vague description from Saito.

" _Support, if it becomes necessary—though I doubt it will. I suppose you can regard this as a free trip_. _How fortunate for you_."

Even if those terms were different, Sano wouldn't have passed on the opportunity to switch his normal routine up for a bit of excitement, and his travel companion only made the invitation that much more enticing. Anything was better than being left to spend another week alone at Saito's place, just killing time and waiting for him to come back anyway—especially when he could just spend it with him instead.

Indeed, rolling the dice and weight training with sake jugs well into the night were both amusing ways to get the endorphins flowing, but neither could hold a candle to the feelings this trip evoked.

A smile pulled outward to Sano's cheeks as their steps brought them to the bottom of the last small ascent of their journey. Makeshift stairs had been carved into the dirt by other travelers over the years but the angle of the slope still required leg muscle to scale.

Up to this point, they'd been up, down, and over several foothills, and the mere notion of climbing another should have been exhausting; however, Sano felt determined by having one final challenge and let his gratification over the last few days act as a stimulant.

He clapped Saito on the back and jogged in place. "Last one, eh? No problem. I'll race you to the top, old man!"

And then he was off: one foot before the other, the top nearing little by little, their destination closer with each forward thrust…

"Hell," Sano panted, " _yeah_!" With a final burst of energy and his fist thrown victoriously upward, the soles of his shoes landed on flat ground—but instead of gloating about being the first one there, his words were stolen by the view in a way he hadn't anticipated. They died right in his throat while his hand dropped.

From traveling beneath the trees for so long, Sano hadn't noticed the sun setting along the horizon before now. Objectively, it was every adjective ever used to describe the beauty of dusk setting in, but all of that was overshadowed by the stark realization that the vibrant, diverse colors of the world had drifted into a thousand shades of red.

Fallen autumn leaves blanketed the dirt and embellished lower rolling hills, imbuing the ground to make it mirror a celestial paintbrush sweeping the sky in deep crimson—a metaphor if Sano had ever known one, even if he'd never been much of a poet. Kyoto seemed to have adorned itself with a ball gown of blood this evening, like a bitter lover welcoming back one who'd been long estranged from her embrace; it seemed fitting to expect that falling into her comfort and stripping away those layers of beauty would reveal a hidden knife strapped to a lace garter.

The reunion could only result in the stab of heartache, not pleasure or healing. And yet, there she was laid out before them, a femme fatale with an innocent face, beckoning with an invitation that neither could decline.

Sano blinked, caught off guard and finding himself a little unsettled with being the first to see something potentially too symbolic. He needn't have fought here during the war to know the suffering this city endured, and how its recovery had been rooted in the bones and ash of those who gave their lives for the future of Japan.

Swallowing when soft labored breathing reached his ears, Sano pivoted to Saito gracefully making his appearance at the summit and was unsure if he should speak; he quickly decided it would be too awkward to remain quiet.

"I…uh," Sano started, "…I beat you."

Saito huffed and placed a smoke between his lips. "Enjoy your empty victory. There was no reason to race."

While that taunt might have prompted a snarky reply at any other time, Sano remained silent and turned back to the view. Saito stepped up to his side to also survey their surroundings, and once several moments went by thereafter, Sano peered over his shoulder through peripheral vision. He first focused on the orange glow of the freshly lit cigarette and then studied Saito's body language, paying mind to remain covert so he wouldn't draw attention to his concern.

Sano's eyes softened and he slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. He'd known from the start that coming back couldn't be easy, but the enjoyable time they'd spent on the way here eclipsed that fact. And while his own lightheartedness had been traded for a more serious demeanor, Sano found no change in Saito. He remained prim and proper, presenting himself no differently than any other time: same disposition, impartial expression, tobacco in hand, just another day.

Such a non-reaction was as uncanny as it was unbelievable.

With a quiet exhale, Sano refocused back on the sight this vantage point presented them of Kyoto and considered the possibility of his mind fabricating the significance of all the red surrounding them. Sundown in Tokyo was often the same color, after all, and the leaves lining the trails cutting through trees back home were just as ruby.

…But in Tokyo, there were no blue uniforms stained in burgundy, no Shinsengumi graves, no reason for traumatic memories to resurface while walking down familiar streets and paths. Hell, there could've been countless instances of blood spilled right where they stood now, from a sword all too familiar. Sano swallowed again and gazed down to his white shoes, finding them a stark contrast against the earth. He couldn't help thinking that Saito once more in the arms of Kyoto was just as hard a clash.

From his own experiences with the Sekihoutai, there were places Sano would never even _consider_ returning to because of the trauma he'd endured. And while he and Saito had more in common than either were comfortable to admit at the start, the eventual recognition of their many similarities helped Sano understand him that much better when they'd begun quietly sharing more than just a bed.

From that knowledge, he was sure— _damn_ sure—that Saito was more affected than he let on. In fact—

A gloved hand shoved his bicep, just enough to slightly tip his balance. "Are you listening to me, you moron?"

Sano's eyes widened and he stumbled to regain neutral footing, then raised his chin with his attention snapping to Saito. The reply he'd intended was interrupted before the words could begin to leave his tongue.

"That's better," Saito remarked with indifference, procuring a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket and extending it in Sano's direction. "I arranged for us to stay at this inn. It's complete with dinner so you don't need to worry about that."

With his brow furrowing, Sano studied the directions complete with a hand-drawn map before finding Saito's gaze again. "We're not going there together?"

Turning his face to the side, Saito took a long draw and then tilted his head back to exhale, watching his breath dissipate upward. His shoulders were loose, his spine relaxed. "I'll arrive later tonight. I need to check in with the chief and take care of a few things."

"Shouldn't I go with you, though?" Sano pressed, and then stood straighter when he realized emotion was beginning to shine through cracks in his exterior; he'd never been good at the art of concealment. However, a gut feeling based on his own struggles was all he had, and as of now Saito was disproving any concern that had welled up inside him. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd rather…"

"Not miss dinner?" Saito interjected and huffed once more. "Of course. Don't get such a high opinion of your involvement in this mission, by the way. Your presence here is very low key and it's just easier for me not having to explain why I brought you along to the chief."

"Well…" Sano's brows lifted as he momentarily cocked his head. "Why _did_ you? And don't tell me it's because you just wanted to show me the countryside."

The reply came quickly. "As I said, your role is simply backup." Saito kicked the leaves at his feet about, exposing a bare patch of ground. "But if you're really so interested in having something to do, then you'll pay a visit to the Aoiya tomorrow and ask some questions while I'm occupied."

"But…" Pursing his lips, Sano asked, "Why not Cho?"

"You're the one who spent a month living there while you recovered. It's logical to assume you'd have a better relationship with them." Dropping his cigarette to the dirt, Saito took care to step on it and ensure the flame was out before covering the area in leaves again. Their eyes met. "Wouldn't you say?"

"Uh…yeah," Sano began, "Yeah, but that's not what I—" He trailed off as Saito closed the space between them and felt gentle fingertips brushing locks of hair behind his ear.

"So, that's all, then." Saito's tone could have been patronizing if not for the tenderness of his touch. He stepped back. "Low key and uneventful, just like I said. In any case, the address I gave you is simple to find. Even someone like you with no sense of direction wouldn't get lost."

Sano remained quiet and slowly nodded, giving into Saito's abrupt change of subject. Whether he was intentionally dodging something or simply being his detached work-mode self was unclear, but Sano still felt compelled to ask if Saito was really okay with walking this blood-soaked path once more. At the same time, he wasn't sure how to pose the question without sounding too dramatic, and as he began considering another way of asking, Saito disrupted the moment.

"I suggest we start moving again. It should take a little over a half hour to make it down there. Fortunately for you wanting a race so badly, there's a worthy contender."

Sano covered for his unspoken floundering with the return of characteristic hotshot audacity. "You?" He lowered his chin and huffed out the nose, his lips twitching at the corners and forming a small smirk. "Heh…"

"Of course I'm not referring to myself," Saito countered. "You don't stand a chance against me at anything. I'm talking about that." He pointed toward the disappearing sun. "We'd better get out of these trees before the light is gone."

And that was that.

As usual, there was no need to express or search the other for agreement. Saito turned on his polished black shoes and Sano followed his lead like clockwork, tracing footsteps while burying his hands deep into his pockets again and keeping the directions clutched firm in his grasp. He drank in a final view of Kyoto from this aerial perspective, noting how the colors of nature deepened and changed as daylight fought against the inevitable reign of night. Sano's attention returned to Saito, and he studied the back of his uniform while wondering if there was some cryptic similarity to be drawn from all these observations.

Was Saito inwardly clinging to something so he could resist an unwanted upheaval of emotion from bad memories? Was that how he managed to appear so unaffected? Because surely, he was and yet…

Another half-hearted moment had been spent in consideration before Sano's mouth opened and he inhaled sharply, reaching for Saito's arm—only to have his fingertips pause just when they were about to make contact. Space expanded between their persons as the soles of his shoes remained in the same place while Saito's moved forward. Finally, with his digits curling gently in, Sano swallowed and he tightened the gap separating them, silence prevailing for the rest of the short hike. It was the first time on the trip he'd gone without talking for so long.

They reached the outskirts of central Kyoto while the final remnants of crimson disappeared, at last relinquishing the sky to a glittering sea of stars.

Pedestrians from all walks of life bustled about them on the busy street they'd wound up on, and Sano felt his arm grasped tightly and pulled, veering him off to the side. Once out of the way, another fresh cigarette appeared between Saito's lips and he closed his eyes, swinging his hip casually out while lighting up. "Do you need me to walk you to the inn?" He shook the match to put it out and dropped it.

'Do you _want_ to walk me there?' was what Sano wanted to say, or perhaps it was more like, 'I'd rather just go with you.' But in the end, he decided to play hard to get instead of giving into what he truly desired. Clasping his hands and pressing them to the back of his head, he shrugged and baited the situation. "I should be fine…if your directions are really as good as you claim…" A forced laugh. "…old man."

Sano blinked and wondered how that jumble of sounds had come from him; the words were certainly his (he'd say them in Tokyo anytime), but the delivery was botched and clumsy.

"Heh." The corner of Saito's lip twitched upon an exhale and he surveyed the activity unfolding around them. Without looking back at Sano, he said, "Until later, then, aho." And then he was quickly pivoting and walking off and falling in place among the crowd, each step making it more and more difficult for Sano to amend the inelegance and inaccuracy of his comment.

He had regrets. Sano's shoulders slumped and his eyes traced the confident saunter, the way Saito held his head high, watching until those sure footsteps led him to an alleyway. He turned there, and then he was gone.

When Saito disappeared around that corner, Sano licked his lips and cast his gaze downward as he thought about what he'd wanted but failed to say—which both brought on an influx of protectiveness and sparked an impulsive, knee-jerk decision. Bracing his hand against the wall of the building, he shoved himself out onto street, his shoes hitting the ground as fast as they could while he weaved in and out of other pedestrians to reach the side road Saito had vanished on.

Sano's chest rose and fell, scanning the alley illuminated by lanterns placed outside the entrances of small bars and restaurants; despite being taller than most, he raised his chin and elevated to his tiptoes, searching for the same person he'd spent days alongside—a person who left no trace of himself now. Sano's brows raised at the inner ends and his heels touched down again when he acknowledged this.

Instinct demanded he tear down the alley to try catching up, but a blockade of pride barred the way. His concern hadn't been justified by Saito's demeanor after all, and it would do more harm to create an issue if one didn't exist. But still…

Sano huffed with indecision and suddenly became aware of how people were bowing aside to pass where he stood, dead in the middle of foot traffic. Awkwardness flicked him hard between the eyes at that realization and he stumbled out of the way. The idea of asking where the police station was located crossed his mind and that's when Sano supposed he was being ridiculous. He shoved a hand into his pocket to produce the directions given to him. Unfolding the paper, he turned it upside down and then right side up again.

Saito would be fine, Sano reassured himself as he studied the hand-drawn map, even if the nagging feeling in his gut insisted otherwise. When was he ever _not_ okay, after all?

" _I've faced many more perilous situations than any of you_."

The recollection of those words stung hard, but they _had_ carried some merit. Saito had smiled softly when he spoke them over the gap that separated him from Sano, from life and death, from the past and present. But more than that, they branded him a survivor—one who could always take care of himself without the help of others.

He would be fine—because he always was.

Probably.

Finally settling with his decision since it was too late to do anything about it anyway, Sano reached up to scratch the side of his head and focused on the next problem. He turned the paper around again, realizing he had no idea where he was in relation to Saito's drawing.

He wanted to prove that he could be just as self-reliant, that he didn't need Saito looking out for him when he was already capable. And part of proving that meant it was time to begin the hunt for an inn named Kikushiro in…Sano squinted and pointed… _that_ direction.

(The inn was the opposite way.)

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Sano located Kikushiro.

…Eventually.

His reward for being a (somewhat) successful navigator (who'd asked for directions on three separate occasions) had been a large dinner that delighted and jazzed his taste buds. It'd taken him three times as long as it should have to make his arrival, but alas. Saito said there was no reason to race, so Sano hadn't raced.

He could justify nearly anything— _nearly_.

While little compared to the comfort of relaxing in a hot bath after a fancy repast he hadn't needed to pay for, Sano found himself feeling strangely off while steeping shoulder-deep in steaming water. He held his knees to his chest and shut his eyes, closing himself off from the sights and sounds of others around him so he could focus on how the heat soothed the soreness in his body.

Sano's calves told the story of the impressive amount of ground he and Saito had covered that day, and now came the valiant next chapter written by the consequences from such strenuous exercise: aching muscles. Though the bath played the hero in this second arc by enveloping his tired frame with a blanket of relief, it did little to quell his racing mind.

Wondering what Saito's condition was and if he felt just as achy all over, Sano's lashes parted to the steam rising from the water and he watched reflections of hand-lit lanterns dancing upon the gleaming surface.

Saito hadn't given any indication of when he'd make his arrival here and once more, Sano felt that annoying pang again for mentally fumbling about and not insisting that he tag along—predictable rebuttals and concealed emotionalism be damned. Guilt gnawed at him for being able to eat and wind down in luxury without Saito at his side to do the same, especially since the pins and needles of intuition were very much still at work.

By nature, Saito wasn't an emotional person but to not show any sign of being even slightly moved upon returning to Kyoto had Sano troubled. Even _he_ felt a bit uneasy coming back after the crisis with Shishio. And while that had been a formidable and precarious experience he'd been lucky to walk away from, at least he hadn't personally lived through the crimson rain that tainted streets now camouflaged in modern beauty.

…At least everyone who Sano loved was still alive.

He blinked. Maybe that was the key to his reluctance to separate tonight, and why watching Saito vanish so quickly caused unease to well up inside him earlier. Saito's perceived death had initially maimed Sano, filling him with hysteria and anguish he hadn't known since his youth, and he'd sobbed for him openly in front of Aoshi upon their escape.

Limping back to the Aoiya had felt too long that fateful day, but the recovery afterward seemed unending in comparison. Being broken and bloody all over had meant nothing to Sano back when he'd stared vacantly toward the ceiling from the futon his friends offered. As time passed and the physical symptoms morphed into mere memories and scars, a permanent veil of gray set in after the shock.

Sano had meditated on the value of what had been lost, and that was when he'd realized he could have loved a dead man.

Of course, fate had given Saito back, in the same way it'd thrown Sano right into his arms. But the recollection of that loss still cut deep and it was one that would likely never vanish.

How could Saito face that same kind of pain with such a nonchalant attitude? There was no chance of regaining everything so precious to him that'd been lost over a decade ago. How could he wave his cigarette about in apathy, cock his head to the side with that signature smirk, and allow careless taunts to fall from his lips, as if this were just another night in Tokyo?

"Excuse me?"

 _Bullshit_. Sano's eyes remained on the gleam of the water, staring at nothing as he immersed himself entirely in his thoughts. Perhaps their penchant for talking about the superficial while leaving deeper things unspoken was detrimental and not as exciting or convenient as Sano initially deemed it. And now Saito was somewhere alone, in a place like this. If the situation were reversed and they'd visited where the Sekihoutai had met their end, Sano was positive that Saito wouldn't have left him, even if he'd insisted.

Sano's lashes fell. What if Saito really wasn't above it all and needed someone by him? What if—

" _Excuse me_." A loud voice startled Sano and he jolted his chin upward to find a thin man standing at the edge of the bath. He was pointing to the open part of the bench. "Sorry. Is someone sitting next to you?"

If only there were… Shaking his head, Sano braced against the tiled floor with his palms and pushed himself out of the water. "No. I was just getting out anyway."

Holding his towel before his groin, he ambled to a small side room of wooden cabinets to collect his belongings. Sano slipped back into his yukata, rubbed excess moisture from his hair, and slung the towel over a shoulder. With his feet in slippers, he hastily exited to the main hall and returned to their room.

The space was empty as Sano expected, and for once, he lamented over being correct. He'd become used to Saito's constant company after days spent without wandering from his side, and now here they were in Kyoto, of all places, separated for the first time since their departure.

Sano shook his head and tossed the towel in the corner. His exhausted body longed for the support of a futon, so he dragged the mattresses folded neatly in the corner to the center of the tatami and laid them side by side. Sheets, pillows, and covers were arranged next and finally, Sano fell face first into the fresh linens with a groan.

An hour of rest would do him well—would give him enough time to replenish a little so he could be awake and in a better mental state when Saito arrived. Autumn chill pricked the air and with a shiver, Sano slid his legs beneath the blankets and pulled them to his waist. He gazed at the empty pillow next to his through half-lidded eyes and reached over to press his palm to the fabric. His fingertips gently flexed upon it over and over.

Like this, Sano drifted and the room was soon filled with the soft sound of his breathing, an outstretched hand dormant in the place where Saito was missed most.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Pale moonlight permeated the window shade, stretching across the floor and sweeping over Sano's face with a gentle kiss that coaxed him out of a dream. His lashes parted and he stared vacantly through a drowsy haze, conscious enough to recognize the futon beside him remained not just empty but untouched. The strong aroma of tobacco once again stood in place for Saito's presence, as it had so many times before when he'd been gone. It wouldn't classify as unusual…if they were still in Tokyo.

So. Saito hadn't come to the inn, after all…

Rolling his shoulders up when a sinking feeling began to spread through his belly, Sano shut his eyes and tucked his nose beneath the cover to conserve heat. He couldn't tell how long he'd been asleep, but the lantern flames had died at some point, leaving the room bathed in silver from the night sky.

Nuzzling the bedclothes, Sano's brow twitched, half-consciously realizing that Saito's scent was stronger now and the blanket material felt much rougher against his cheek than he recalled—and that's when his lashes fluttered again, this time to the sight of navy.

With a jolt, Sano pushed himself upon his forearm and grabbed the garment sliding down his torso, leaning in and immediately identifying it as Saito's jacket. He raised his chin in confusion without knowing what to expect—but it _certainly_ hadn't been a huddled figure on the floor, just to the side of the window.

His pupils dilated as he gasped and froze, blinking twice and squinting before releasing the breath he'd held. Sano slowly sat up, remaining silent for a beat before whispering, "…Saito?"

"Go back to sleep."

' _Aho_.' Sano's mind unconsciously filled in the word that had been left out, and only then realized its omission. He remained where he was and his fingers curled into the blue material tighter, taking his time to study this situation as his brain caught up with the awakened state of his body.

Saito sat in full uniform, minus the jacket and hat. His knees were bent, his sword held in his right hand and an unlit cigarette in his left. The lack of burning tobacco was only the tip of the iceberg; Saito sitting out of proper seiza form was a subtle but clear shift in his disposition that no one else might have picked up on, but Sano instantly did and that fact meant everything.

"Don't you…" Sano swallowed and cleared his throat, feeling a little awkward all of a sudden and unsure if he should speak or not. Since he'd already started asking, he decided to roll with it. "…Don't you want to lay down?"

"No."

"Oh…" Sano's voice was barely audible as he trailed off. Letting his eyes wander to the sheet, he licked his lips and shivered against the chill in the room. Surely, he decided, Saito wasn't warm enough in only a short-sleeve shirt, so Sano shimmied forward with one hand clutching the jacket to his chest through his yukata. The tatami was cool and uncomfortable upon leaving the bed, and when Sano stopped just before Saito, he sat back on his feet and offered the garment without a word.

Saito didn't look at him. "Keep it." His expression was blank and unreadable, his tone lacking emotion. "It's cold."

"Yeah," Sano agreed softly, noticing the tiny bumps that had risen over Saito's arms. "…It is." His gaze wandered down to the iron grip Saito maintained on his sword, cropping up the memory of a conversation Sano had shared with Kenshin once. It'd taken place after he'd found him napping in the same configuration one afternoon at the dojo.

 _"How the hell do you sleep sitting up like that, Kenshin?"_

 _"It's a habit left over from ten years ago, that it is, Sano."_

 _"Ten years ago, huh…"_

" _A memory better left in the past, indeed._ "

 _"Does it…trouble you?"_

 _"I find myself pleasantly distracted when I surround myself with those I love. Protecting what is most cherished gives one great purpose."_

The smile that had followed those words was so genuine that Sano went silent. He simply watched once Kenshin excused himself to hang the laundry, wondering if love could actually mend wounds from a past much too painful. Stray droplets had caught the light of the afternoon sun when Kenshin shook out a towel, his eyes closed and lips pulled outward to his cheeks while he hummed softly to himself. He'd looked at peace, happy—and when Kaoru walked over to help him, Sano considered that there could be merit to affection as medicine, after all.

Though, it hadn't been the last time he'd found Kenshin sleeping like that over the months, nor the last of those serene smiles which filled him with warmth. Those mannerisms seemed a stark contradiction, and Sano had often wondered if Kenshin was inwardly fighting two sides of himself to maintain the outward equilibrium he radiated. It wouldn't be unlikely, given all that he'd been through.

By comparison, Saito was a polar opposite. He was conservative with showing such emotion, especially in public. At times when they were alone, he'd offer one of those quiet smiles that made Sano's heart beat faster, but they were rare rewards; Saito seemed satisfied to remain reserved with his feelings, which Sano accepted entirely, despite being a passionate person himself. In the end, what mattered most to him was that Saito could attain peace in the current era, and Sano had thought he had.

They would eat dinner together, talk about nothing unusual—sometimes work, sometimes the news. Sometimes, Saito would poke fun at Sano for something and sometimes, Sano would retort…sometimes, they'd begin sparring and sometimes, it ended in the bedroom. And as for sharing a bed, that was where Sano had always seen Saito fall sleep: on the futon. He'd never been crouched over against a wall, clutching his weapon…had never given reason for Sano to suspect he was struggling internally.

Until now.

It became obvious that for the second time today, Sano was regrettably correct. His intuition hadn't failed him.

Saito wasn't above it all or unaffected by returning to Kyoto; Saito had just been _Saito_ —steeling himself to remain strong and cover his vulnerabilities, making it as difficult as he could for an outsider to penetrate his exterior. That was just who he was, someone who had survived more perils than most—someone who took care of himself and fought his own battles, someone who didn't depend on others.

But Sano had been with him a little too long and knew him a little too well by now for that defense mechanism to be effective. In fact, he realized that Saito had likely been counting on him not waking up and finding him like this.

The question was what to do next. Saito's posture was rigid and unwelcoming, and he'd already rejected the idea of lying down. Sano could try to persuade him (and fail, like he always did), or take the direct route and insist Saito drop the front he erected—that they could let go of this ridiculous habit of not discussing their feelings, and Saito could just talk to him if he needed to.

But when Sano's lips parted, Kenshin's words from that day filled his thoughts once more, about how he'd been distracted by keeping the ones he loved close and found purpose in protecting them…

And that's when it finally became clear why Saito had chosen _him_ for this trip, why it would have been troublesome to explain his presence to the chief. Sano wasn't relevant to the mission at all…he was here to act as Saito's sheath, just as Kaoru acted as Kenshin's. He'd been brought along to ground him and distract him—to offer Saito something familiar to hold onto in the face of resurging trauma and give him purpose which amounted to more than anything he'd been in his past.

A captain, a warrior, a murderer, a victim, a survivor…Shinsengumi, Loyalist, the victor, the vanquished. None of that mattered here. When they were alone, titles carried no meaning. Saito was Saito, and Sano was Sano. They were just ordinary people leading ordinary lives.

Returning to Kyoto was a threat to that harmony, however. So, Saito had brought along someone who could divert him from the ugliness…one who he could show a good time to while in transit and protect by covering when it got cold, one to watch over when the moon spilled silver where red rivers once ran. These things helped him remember his humanity and that though he'd survived the events which took place here, they hadn't defined him.

How could Sano effectively support Saito like this? Nothing had been expected of him, other than to simply serve as his companion. But now that he'd worked this all out, he felt he could and _should_ have done so much better—if he'd only understood his role from the beginning and not been left to figure out what was best to do on his own.

It was obvious that dawdling in clumsy quietude wouldn't help, so Sano nudged his way between Saito's legs and turned halfway to sit, keeping his knees bent and leaning unto his chest. As Sano moved the jacket to blanket his far shoulder, he felt Saito's body become even stiffer.

"What are you doing?" Saito asked, his voice low and gravelly.

Sano's hand raised, fingertips brushing aside long bangs and pressing to Saito's cheek, coaxing his face to turn; he received resistance but eventually got his way. Their breath mingled for a moment before Sano closed his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Saito's in a kiss much too stiff. An action once rife with fervor had been replaced by painfully obvious tension and uncertainty that loomed like a black cloud.

Slowly, their mouths parted and Sano moved his forehead down to touch Saito's cheek. He licked his dry lips and squinted, running through mental gymnastics to say something along the lines of, ' _I'm with you and I understand._ ' But once again, Sano couldn't imagine those words leaving him without sounding clumsy and turning the situation more uncomfortable than it already was.

As he shuffled through several ridiculous phrasing options, he realized that he never thought this extensively about what he should say any other time when they were together— _unless_ he was trying too hard. And it finally occurred to Sano he'd _been_ trying so hard that he hadn't acted like himself since his shoes touched the top of that summit.

Saito was a master of interpreting human behavior and reading between the lines, and he'd likely picked up on the awkward shift in character with the blink of an eye. Being so emotionally reserved, Sano realized now that it was also probable Saito wanted, at all costs, to avoid having the conversation he'd tried to start too many times this evening. The reliability of Sano's carefree nature was what Saito had quietly depended on, but when that changed, he also had to adapt.

Perhaps, that was why they'd stopped talking on the way to downtown…why Saito had been so quick to part earlier and made sure to arrive at the inn after Sano fell asleep. Perhaps, by acting differently and overthinking every step, Sano had made Saito regret his decision to have him tag along, and needlessly complicated something that was already burdensome enough.

If that were true—and it likely was—Sano wouldn't stand for it. He never had to overdo it or give it all away to please Saito. Maybe the reason why they never discussed all those obscure _deep things_ he'd damned himself over before was because they hadn't ever needed to. They clicked seamlessly, existed in harmony with their hearts beating in unison—so long as they were being themselves.

At last, Sano abandoned the convoluted maze his mind had managed to trap him in and finally allowed instinct to take over.

"I just spent six days never being without you," Sano declared in a strong voice. "And tonight you weren't around, so..." Sano felt Saito shift slightly, as if he were expecting to hear something different. "So…" he continued, letting his hand wander to Saito's still holding the unlit cigarette and pulling it toward him. "Sorry for being…"

"Clingy," Saito cut in.

Sano furrowed his brow, and raised his chin so they could look at each other. "You could have used a more dignified word, you know." His face softened with the twitching of his lips and then his gaze turned downward. "But yeah…I just…I want to be near you. That's all. Is it really so bad?" …Was that what Saito needed to hear? Letting his lashes fall, he decided it didn't matter. It was what _he'd_ wanted to say.

Sano's eyes reopened widely when he heard the thump of the sword hitting the floor and felt Saito's arms snap around him tightly. He held his breath as he was pulled close, then melted into the embrace and placed his fingertips above Saito's heart. Sano flexed them into his shirt, tugging gently on the material.

They remained in silence for a long while like this, clinging and being clung to, holding and being held. When he felt his thigh beginning to go numb, Sano adjusted himself, sliding down a little so he could rest his head on Saito's shoulder, and then nuzzled the juncture where his neck met his chest. It left him at a strange angle, but he wouldn't complain.

"It's uncomfortable for you, aho," Saito said softly.

"I don't care."

"You should lie down."

"You won't come with me," Sano countered. "So, this is where I'll sleep too."

He felt Saito huff.

"I know." Sano tapped his fingers against Saito's chest. "I'm stubborn and dumb. Tell me something new."

"Why state the obvious, indeed." Saito pensively stroked his back several times before placing a palm against Sano's nearest shoulder and gently pushing him upright. "Let's go to bed."

"Yeah?" Sano immediately felt loss from no longer having those arms around him. "Are you sure? Because I can just—" He trailed off when Saito got to his feet with his sword in hand and crossed the small space to the futons.

Sano quietly observed as Saito lowered to his knees and began undoing his belt in the center of a very open room…which made him realize just how awful his placement was of the mattresses. Even if Saito had wanted to lie with him before, being exposed between a door and window was hell for frayed nerves. Yet, he was willing to attempt enduring it now, only for Sano's comfort.

"Wait," Sano spoke up. He slipped his hands through the armholes of Saito's jacket so it wouldn't fall off and crawled forward. "Let's move them." When a questionable look was sent in his direction, his mouth eased into a smile. "The light woke me up before, so..."

A dark brow twitched but Saito relented with a single nod. Together, they moved the futons to the corner they'd just been sitting near, effectively avoiding the most vulnerable points of the space. While readjusting the sheet, Sano found the unused cigarette Saito had been holding earlier.

"Gonna smoke this one tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Saito confirmed, nestling his sword between the wall and bed for easy access. He removed his gloves and slipped beneath the blankets. The remainder of his uniform stayed intact, but Sano didn't inquire or offer the other yukata resting unused nearby…whatever it took to make Saito comfortable was fine.

He placed the cigarette down on a small table and turned back to the bed, finding the covers pulled back for him. Sano didn't need that invitation twice; he slid right under, worming his way right to Saito's side and settling there with his palm on his chest. Saito placed his hand atop Sano's.

The bed was a warm and cozy balm to Sano's achy muscles and he sighed contentedly, nosing Saito and closing his eyes.

"Sagara."

"Mm?"

"What the hell was that kiss you gave me before?"

Sano blinked and tilted his head up. "What do you mean?"

"It was like kissing a daruma doll."

"Hey, fuck you, all right?"

Saito chuckled. "Perhaps after that cigarette tomorrow, if you're good."

Yanking his hand from the one holding his, Sano clapped Saito lightly on the far side of his face and forcefully pulled his mouth to his own. Sano opened his lips and wasted no time spearing his tongue through Saito's to meet its companion. Their eyes remained open as his fingers slipped down, cupping beneath Saito's ear while leaving his thumb across the cheek to keep him in place.

He kissed Saito until he was breathless and dizzy, finally breaking away and leaving them both heaving for air.

"Don't you _ever_ ," Sano panted, "insult the way I kiss you." He tapped the pad of his thumb firmly against that prominent cheekbone, before his hand finally trailed down Saito's jaw and neck to settle back on his chest. " _Ever_ again."

"Don't give me reason to, then."

Sano's brows knitted inward but when his eyes flicked back to Saito's, his irritated expression vanished. There it was…that soft smile—the one that was reserved only for him. Sano licked his lips and finally laid his head back down on a strong shoulder.

Another impulsive desire to speak nagged at him. Earlier, he might have deadened it but now…who was he to argue with his nature?

"I'm glad you chose to bring me," Sano said.

"As usual, you always talk too much."

 _Ah…of course…_

Then, Saito drew Sano even closer and he pressed his lips into his hair. "But who else, aho?"

Sano's digits curled in gently and no further words were exchanged that night. When Sano fell asleep this time, it was with his lips gently curved upward.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

That cigarette was smoked in the morning and since Sano was on his best behavior, Saito made good on his promise. The days passed quickly thereafter without further hiccups, and even with the difference in environment, they spent them like they always did in Tokyo.

They ate dinner together, talked about nothing unusual—sometimes work, sometimes the news. Sometimes, Saito poked fun at Sano and sometimes, Sano retorted. Sometimes, they started sparring and sometimes, it ended on the futons. And that's where they both slept every night, warm beneath the blankets.

Much too soon, it became time to say goodbye to Kyoto.

Mid-morning sun made the cool air warmer when Sano left the inn for the last time, and he looked back at the owner biding them a goodbye with a friendly wave.

"So…" Sano said, turning for the station where a carriage had been scheduled to pick them up, but he stopped abruptly when Saito started going the opposite way. "Hey." No response. "Hey!"

"Oh, I don't _believe_ it!" Jogging to Saito's side, Sano grabbed his bicep. "You don't _ever_ get to make fun of me having a shitty sense of direction again, Saito. You're going the wrong way."

"Heh…" Tobacco in hand, Saito maintained the course. "We need to stop somewhere before leaving."

Striding a little faster to keep Saito's pace while studying him, Sano curled his lips in before relenting and letting him go. He could have inquired where they were headed, just as Sano could have asked a _lot_ of questions while they were here—but he didn't. In keeping with the nature of their relationship, some things were just better left unspoken until they became necessary.

Sano had already determined what his purpose was on this trip the first night they spent at the inn. Whatever Saito had to do before they departed, he could do without an interrogation.

They walked for a short time, when Saito suddenly broke the companionable quiet. "His name was Okita."

Blinking, Sano looked up at him and opened his mouth, but shut it as he allowed Saito to continue.

"Captain of the first Shinsengumi unit. He loved sake, the color blue, and camellia." Saito huffed. "No one could ever understand why he chose a bad luck symbol as his favorite flower." Golden eyes gazed off to the cemetery that laid ahead of them. "…But that was the kind of person he was."

"You…were close," Sano said gently, as they made their way down a line of graves.

"Yes." Saito stopped before a tomb inscribed with the named Okita Souji. "We were."

His hands met and he bowed his head.

"Sorry. No camellia is in bloom now, but I'm sure you'll overlook that, won't you? I haven't visited you since the last time we saw each other, because I hadn't yet made good on what I promised you."

Standing close, Sano remained silent.

"But now I have." A cock of the head. "This one."

It took a moment for Sano to realize he was the one being referred to, and when it dawned on him, his lashes parted a little wider. He looked from Saito to the grave, and then back. His heart began pounding, suddenly understanding that _this_ had been the true reason why Saito brought him here; it hadn't been for moral support or anything like that. It was for...

"I'll come again someday. Until then, assume there've been no changes. Look after him." He raised his brows. " _Don't_ be jealous."

Saito's hands fell back to his sides and he looked over the polished gray stone for several more moments before peering over his shoulder to Sano. "All right, then. Let's go home."

"Uh…hang…hang on." Sano quickly stepped before Okita's name, pressed his palms together, and bowed. He chose to keep his own words private, and when he finished, Sano lifted his head and nodded.

Quiet fell between them again as they walked side-by-side—a pleasant silence this time, one that Sano used to think about the promise he'd just made to a man he'd never even met. It was a simple line, comprised of simple words. But the meaning was deep.

 _I'll be his sheath._

It was a vow that went unbroken.

Years passed. Features changed. Life went on. And the next time Saito visited Okita's grave, Sano was at his side with an armful of camellia.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading!


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